


The Adventures of Russian Tiger Yuri Plisetsky and His Lovestruck Not-Coach

by Tolstoyevsky



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Chapter 1 takes place during Episode 3, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Spoilers for Episode 10, Yuri Plisetsky has had enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 08:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8790199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tolstoyevsky/pseuds/Tolstoyevsky
Summary: “Viktor,” Yuri hissed, pulling him aside once Katsuki had finally gotten off the ice, “Are you sure this is the same guy as the one you danced with at the banquet last year?”Conversations that Yuri Plisetsky and Viktor Nikiforov have had off-screen. That is, when Katsuki Yuuri wasn't listening.2/10/18: Happy Olympic season! Just updated the last chapter, an Otayuri side story. Hope you enjoy <3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants some YOI-themed music, [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/tolstoyevsky/playlist/7dtTAAISDjCfEjYoOV8IiU) are the songs I've been listening to while writing. There are some fan favorites and tracks from the Yuri!!! On Ice soundtrack there, too. Hope you enjoy!

“ _Viktor,_ ” Yuri hissed, pulling him aside once Katsuki had finally gotten off the ice, “Are you sure this is the same guy as the one you danced with at the banquet last year?”

Viktor Nikiforov, internationally renowned figure skater, five-time Grand Prix gold medalist and world champion, and pretty much the bane of Yuri Plisetsky’s existence at this point, just smiled. 

“You should know, Yura,” he teased, using the other boy’s nickname. “After all, you fought him in a dance-off back then.” 

“Yeah, and I won that, too,” he said with a snarl. “Viktor, _please_. Can’t we go back to Russia?” 

“Feel free to return whenever you like,” Viktor said noncommittally. “I’m sure Yakov will be happy to see you.” 

Yuri snorted and crossed his arms. “Katsuki probably doesn’t even remember dancing with you, since he was so shit-faced. Just like _you_ don’t remember your promise to coach me for the Grand Prix-“ 

Viktor laid a hand on his shoulder. “Well,” he said cheerily, “Since none of us seems to remember anything, it makes sense to start over-“ 

“I remember everything-“ 

“-Redo the dance-off, and whoever wins gets my… Undivided attention.” Viktor looked dreamily at Katsuki, who was untying his skate laces while whispering some sort of mantra about “finding eros, being eros.” 

Yuri wrinkled his nose. This was going to be a long battle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri gets interrupted during practice by a message from his ~~former teammate~~ treacherous foe, Viktor Nikiforov. Takes place between episodes 3 and 4.

Yuri was stretching on the side of the ice rink when he felt his phone buzz in his jacket pocket. He raised his eyes, giving a yawn; it was barely 6 am, Moscow time. Who on earth would text him this early?

**[From: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
Hey, Yurio! What are you up to? :)

“Oh my _god,_ ” he whispered. 

**[Russian Tiger]**  
Reading Pushkin  
What do you think I’m up to, asshole? I’m practicing!

**[From: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
:O Don’t text and skate!!

**[Russian Tiger]**  
I’m not, I’m stretching  
You’re up early

**[From: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
It’s noon here! I’m having lunch. Eating a delicious katsudon~  <3

He suddenly felt a crick in his neck. “Ugh,” he muttered, stretching his neck to one side. 

**[Russian Tiger]**  
Ew can u not

**[From: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
Anyway, how is everyone over there? 

Yuri glanced around. Georgi was skating his short program on the rink while Yakov was yelling at him about being “too emotional.” 

“It’s overwhelming your performance! Less mooning over your lost love, more _Carabosse!_ ” 

Georgi nodded and took off into a triple axel that was cringe-worthy. 

“Oh, is that Viktor? Tell him I say hi!” 

Yuri yelped and turned around, only to see Mila looking over his shoulder. He huffed. 

“Fine, I will.” 

**[Russian Tiger]**  
Mila says you’re a dick 

“I did not say that,” she observed, giving him a long look. 

“Shh, he’s replying!” 

**[From: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
:| 

Yuri cackled and began writing another message. 

**[Russian Tiger]**  
And Yakov says you’re the worst coach ever and shouldn’t be allowed within 200 miles of the GPF 

**[From: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
Okay, that one I can believe. 

“This is terrible, Yuri,” Mila chided. “You ought to be focusing more on your own skating.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes, typing out a quick response as he moved into a hamstring stretch.

**[Russian Tiger]**  
I am gonna kick ur ass in Moscow 

It took a minute before he got a response.

**[From: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
You do have a habit of doing that, both literally and figuratively.

**[Russian Tiger]**  
Is that supposed to be a joke?  
Well I will kick your ass  
And pork cutlet bowl’s  
Everyone’s ass, actually, and you’ll see me at the top of the podium at the Final

**[From: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
We’ll see :)

“You’re damn right you will,” he whispered, glaring at his phone screen. 

“ _Yuri!_ ” Yakov shouted. “Are you on your phone during practice? Get back to stretching!”

He winced, but obliged. At this point, it was practice that would take him to the top.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri calls Viktor after watching the figure skating championships in Japan. Not out of concern, of course. Just annoyance.  
> Takes place after Episode 5.

Yuri called Viktor a few days after the Japan Figure Skating Championships, once he’d gotten a new phone to replace the one he’d flung at the window in a rage.

“I saw that picture of you guys on Underboost,” he growled. 

“Yuri? Is that you?” Viktor asked, confused. “Why did your number change?” 

“I had to get a new phone.” 

He could practically feel Viktor frowning from the other end of the line. “Did you break it again?”

“Never mind that,” Yuri muttered, which was basically a confession, but he wasn’t about to derail the conversation. “That picture of you and nosebleed boy hugging, it’s all over the internet. Along with his very public love confession–“

“You mean what he said at the press conference?”

Yuri sighed. “ _Yes._ Viktor, you know you won't be very welcome back in Russia if you keep doing these things in public. You and Katsuki don’t have those kinds of rights here–“ 

“Oh, come on, Yura. He was talking about _love in the abstract_.”

“I quote: “ _Viktor_ is the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold on to. I don’t really have a name for that emotion, but I have decided to call it love.” Do I really have to tell you what that means?”

Nikiforov didn’t answer, really, just gave a small happy squeal that made Yuri want to gag.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“You were the one who called–“

“And what was with that creepy-ass hug from behind?”

“Yura,” Viktor said warmly, and Yuri really wanted to punch him. “Did you watch the whole championships?”

_This idiot,_ he thought, hitting the “end call” button on his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: _Underboost_ , the website where Yurio saw [this](http://images2.itechpost.com/data/images/full/45049/yuri-on-ice-episode-5-recap-episode-6-spoilers.jpg) photo of Viktor and Yuuri, is actually a Russian anime database. :P
> 
> Some info on LGBT rights in Russia, which Yurio briefly brings up: [here](http://www.globalequality.org/newsroom/latest-news/1-in-the-news/186-the-facts-on-lgbt-rights-in-russia).
> 
> [This](http://i.imgur.com/D9JhKXv.jpg) is the hug Yurio's referring to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor calls to congratulate Yuri on receiving the silver medal at Skate Canada. Takes place at the beginning of Episode 6, before the Cup of China.

The night after Yuri’s free skate in Canada, he took a red-eye flight home. He’d stayed awake the entire time, eyes pinker than the sunrise from the plane window when they finally touched down in Moscow. His coaches had seemed pleased about his silver medal, but for Yuri, it wasn’t enough. Although Yakov and Lilia had encouraged him to take a few days off from practice, Yuri ended up doing ballet in his living room while his grandpa cooked _blini_ for lunch.

Suddenly, the phone rang.

“Yurochka, can you answer that?”

Yuri stepped out of a _plié_ to pick it up.

“ _Allo_?”

“Hey! Congratulations on your win in Canada, Yurio!”

Yuri scowled. He’d been about to say thank you, but Viktor _had_ to tack on that god-awful nickname.

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that!”

“Sorry, sorry! Anyway, I wanted to say that your Agape performance was really wonderful. The best one so far.”

He smiled a bit. “Thanks. But I still lost to fucking JJ–“

“Who is that?”

“Jean-Jacques Leroy? From Canada?”

Yuri was met with silence. He wondered if all that daydreaming about Katsuki had finally addled Nikiforov’s brain.

“…Viktor, your memory is shit. He was in the Sochi GPF.”

“Well, I don’t remember him!”

Yuri pressed two fingers to his temple, groaning. He didn’t want to think about JJ any more than was necessary to kick his ass.

“Won bronze last year, pretty tall, a stuck-up yблюдок–“

“Okay, I think I remember,” Viktor said uncertainly.

“Speaking of, has Katsuki mentioned what happened at the banquet?”

Stammering, from Viktor. “O-of course not! What, you think I ought to bring it up? It would embarrass him.”

Yuri snorted. “You’re a wuss.”

“Respect your elders.”

“So you finally admit what a geezer you are,” Yuri said, grinning. “Uncle Nikiforov–“

“Stop talking for a minute and listen. Your Quadruple Salchow was good, but you keep coming out of the Triple Toe Loop too early. Face your shoulders more into the circle when you land; that will make it look cleaner.”

Wait, what?

“Are you seriously giving me skating advice right now?” Yuri exclaimed.

It was Viktor’s turn to sound exasperated. “Yes, why?”

“You refused to coach me, and you’re still giving me tips on how to do my combinations. What gives you the right?”

“I’ve known you for years. But you don’t have to listen to me if you don’t want to.”

“What do you mean? You’re Viktor Nikiforov! Of _course_ I have to listen to your advice!”

“Well, then I’m glad we had this conversation,” he said pleasantly.

…Fuck. Had Yuri Plisetsky just gotten played? He had definitely gotten played.

“Hey, Nikiforov. Good luck in China.”

A small exhale. “Thank you, Yura–“

“–Pork Cutlet Bowl’s going to need it.”

He hung up the phone smartly, stepping off into the kitchen, guided by the smell of warm _blini_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the love on this story so far! It's a lot of fun to write. :) I'm really glad you guys are enjoying it.  
> [Blini](https://www.google.com/search?q=blini&espv=2&biw=1290&bih=668&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjK6KeNx-jQAhWHCMAKHeZjAmwQ_AUICCgB) are delicious! They're the Russian counterpart to crepes and pancakes.  
> "Yблюдок" is the Russian word for "bastard." (Sorry JJ)  
>  _Allo_ just means "hello" and is a phone greeting.
> 
> Edit (12/24): I mistakenly wrote that Yuri lives in Moscow, but he's from St. Petersburg! I think it's just Rostelecom that takes place there.  
> (1/27): Rodinia clarified this one for me: Yuri and his grandpa are from Moscow; Yakov's rink is in St. Petersburg.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri calls Viktor after the Cup of China, where Katsuki Yuuri did... Surprisingly well. Takes place after episode 7.

As it turned out, Pork Cutlet Bowl hadn’t needed luck at the Cup of China, though Yuri still felt a vicious happiness upon hearing that he’d come in second place. Once the rankings were announced, he leapt for his laptop and began researching Phichit Chulanont, the gold medalist. It seemed he was the one to watch out for.

And yet Yuri couldn’t shake off Katsuki’s performance. He watched countless YouTube recordings taken from different angles, trying to determine how Katsuki had pulled it off. His jumps were flawless, his presentation elegant. And he landed a fucking Quadruple Flip out of nowhere! There was no way Katsuki had pulled that out of his ass, though the landing was pretty shitty. Had Viktor been training him to do Quadruple Flips? 

Yakov was going to train _Yuri_ to do Quadruple Flips.

The videos all ended the same way, with Viktor tackling Katsuki on the ice and kissing him on the lips. 

“The fuck is this PDA?” Yuri muttered, squinting at the screen. He clicked out of the video he was currently watching, unwilling to get another eyeful. Viktor’s awkward tackle-kiss was the least surprising thing he’d seen all day; he wanted to know how Katsuki had gotten so good.

Later that night, Yuri called Viktor.

“So you’ve finally grown a pair, Nikiforov.”

“What? Hang on–“ He could barely hear Viktor’s voice over the raucous background noise on the other end. “Okay, sorry.”

“Are you at a club?”

“No, a restaurant, but it’s really busy. Yuuri and I are celebrating with the other skaters.”

“Whatever. Anyway, I called to say that I’ll see you and Katsuki in Moscow–”

“Is this a congratulations?” Viktor sounded delighted.

“–At the bottom of the rankings.”

Viktor tsked. “Second place, Yura. Same as you in Canada.”

_Don’t remind me,_ he thought.

“And did you see that Quad Flip?” 

“About that–“ Yuri began, but he could already tell that he wasn’t going to get anything out of Viktor.

“The grace! The originality! He was absolutely incredible–”

“Are you going to be all mushy now that you’re dating Katsuki? Do I need to buy earplugs, for when I'm around you?”

“We’re not dating yet. I’m planning to talk to him when we get back to the hotel.”

“You’re... Not dating,” Yuri repeated flatly.

“ _Yet–_ “

“But you sucked face on live television, in front of millions of people around the world? What the hell, Viktor?” He yelled. 

“To be fair, no one else mattered in that moment but Yuuri." 

“I think I’m gonna barf. You’re lucky he likes you, Nikiforov.”

A pause. Viktor, gleefully: “You think?”

Yuri hung up on him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy! :)  
> I just started working on a Viktuuri Greek Mythology AU. *Plays Eros and Apollo on repeat*


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri and Viktor reunite at the Rostelecom Cup. Takes place during Episode 8, right after Yuri's Short Program.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode 8 had lots of fun material, so enjoy a slightly longer chapter!

Yuri had thought that Rostelecom was going to be a breeze, but he had barely arrived in Moscow when he realized that unless he could carefully control everything that happened for the next couple of days, it would turn into a shitshow. First he nearly got attacked at the airport by a pack of girls claiming to be his “fan club.” Then Nikiforov set a horde of reporters loose on him at the hotel. The next day, Katsuki scored another personal best during his short program, Yuri fell out of his triple axel, and JJ Leroy called him a lady when he got off the ice. _The hell?_ That wasn’t even an insult. Yuri knew some scary ladies; he wished Lilia had overheard JJ, because she would have glared daggers at him. And then the rankings were announced: even before Leroy started skating, Yuri was already in second place, behind Katsuki. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed backstage. This was going to be a long competition.

“Hey, Yurio! You did great!”

Right on time. Viktor was walking over to him, looking all too happy.

“Thanks for siccing those reporters on me yesterday,” Yuri deadpanned.

“You’re welcome.” Viktor smiled, sipping from a coffee cup. Yuri was tempted to slap it out of his hands, like he’d done the day before.

“I’m being sarcastic! And another thing – you and Katsuki can stop cheering me on! I don’t need your _support_.” 

Viktor stifled a laugh in the crook of his elbow.

“What’s so funny?”

“I like your ears, Yurochka.”

It slowly dawned on Yuri that he’d forgotten to remove the cat ear headband that one of his “fans” had thrown onto his head at the end of his performance.

“Oh my god, am I still wearing that?” He exclaimed, pulling the headband off and flinging it away.

“Come on, Ice Kitty. It’s cute.”

“Stop that,” he snapped. “You heard the announcer. I’m the “usurper skater” of Russia. I’m the fucking Ice Tiger.”

“I thought your nickname was the Russian Fairy,” Viktor said, bemused.

Yuri flinched. “They call _you_ a “national hero,” and I don’t see how that applies, either.”

Viktor’s gaze softened. “You still want me to stay in Moscow, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” He exclaimed. “The sport is nothing without you here!”

“You mean that you don’t have any competition here.”

“No, I _don’t_!”

“Well, when you skate against Yuuri, think of it as skating against me.” 

He fell silent, frowning. Katsuki was certainly his rival, but Yuri had never thought of him as a substitute for Viktor. There was only one Nikiforov, standing in front of him – and he looked as serious as Yuri had ever seen him.

“You would give him that much credit?”

“Of course.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Then Yuri snorted.

“You are so whipped.”

“Just because I kissed a man’s skates, does not mean I am whipped,” Viktor countered.

“Yeah, that was weird. Listen, are you and Pork Cutlet Bowl finally…” Yuri glanced around for reporters. “…You know.”

“Yes.”

“Good for you, I guess.”

Viktor beamed, wrapping an arm around him. “Thank you."

“Yeah, yeah–“ Yuri suddenly remembered seeing Katsuki pull on Viktor’s tie and whisper something in his ear before his Short Program started. “What was he even saying to you earlier, on the ice?”

“That he’d show his love to the whole of Russia.”

Huh. What did that mean?

...On second thought, Yuri did _not_ want to know what it meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Yurio’s real agape is kind of a dick~~
> 
> I had to rewatch Episode 8 to remember exactly what happened, and it had me wheezing with laughter. Yurio probably had [ this song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cEuU64Zt4B0) in his head the whole time.
> 
> Side note – the boys are so dating by this episode; Viktor blushes all throughout Yuuri’s Eros program ://)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor has flown to Japan, and Yuri makes some time to talk to… Someone else. Takes place at the end of episode 9.

Every winter, Yuri seemed to forget how cold it got in Moscow. Forget what people said about Russians; he was definitely not built for chilly weather. Hugging his arms, he trudged through the snow, away from the skating rink. Yuri hadn’t told anyone that he was leaving, but he didn’t think it would take this long to find Katsuki. He checked his watch; a quarter of an hour had passed. God, Yakov was going to kill him – but only after _he_ killed Pork Cutlet Bowl. 

After a while, Yuri finally spotted him. Katsuki was leaning against a railing by the highway, looking wistfully up at the sky. Fucking typical. Yuri walked over and kicked the man in the side, sending him tumbling to the ground. 

“There you are, Pork Cutlet Bowl. You made me look for you.” 

Katsuki rolled over, leaning back on his elbows. “Oh. Yurio.” 

“What was that earlier?” He demanded. 

“Huh?” 

“You were like a zombie, walking around and trying to hug everyone. Stop creeping me out!” 

Katsuki sat up a little more. He twiddled his thumbs, looking shy. “Viktor usually hugs me after a performance. It’s soothing.” 

Yuri made a face. 

“I was feeling hug withdrawal symptoms!” 

“That’s not a thing! And what was with that free skate, anyway? You can make the excuse that you couldn’t do your best because Viktor wasn’t there, but I was in top form and earned a new personal best, only to lose to JJ again! You have no right to feel more down than me, Pork Cutlet Bowl!” 

He tossed the brown paper bag he was holding into Katsuki’s lap. 

“You can have it.” Yuri glanced away, watching the snow as it fell along the small stretch of highway. “It’s almost your birthday, right?” 

“Huh?” He opened the bag. “Pirozhki?” 

“Eat. They’re gonna get cold.” 

“Huh?” Katsuki asked again, like an idiot. “Right here?” 

“Eat!” 

Katsuki stood up with a sigh. Yuri watched him intently as he pulled one of the pirozhki out of the bag, taking a small bite. 

“There’s rice in this… Pork cutlet and egg, too… It’s a pork cutlet bowl!” 

“That’s right! My grandpa made them himself,” he said, grinning proudly. “They’re great, right?” 

“Yeah! They’re _vkusno_!” 

Yuri nodded, starting to walk back toward the rink. Katsuki got the message and followed. 

“Viktor’s finally gotten to you, huh? I don’t know anyone who says _vkusno_ as often as he does. Is he trying to teach you Russian?” 

“He told me how to say a few phrases.” 

“Like what?” 

Katsuki cleared his throat. “Мой парень очень красив,” he said. 

Yuri resisted the urge to cackle. “You sound like a toothless old lady.” 

“But you could understand me, right?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Of course. I speak Russian. Did Viktor tell you what that means?” 

Katsuki scratched his cheek, thinking. “Something like “my coach is really smart.”” 

In spite of himself, Yuri burst out laughing. Katsuki looked over at him, eyes wide. His face was redder than a bowl of borscht. 

“That's not what it means? Is it something embarrassing? I said that to a reporter recently–“ 

“Y-you did not–” Yuri wheezed from laughter. “That was probably his plan all along. Classic Viktor. He never misses a chance to flip society the bird.” 

“It’s that bad? Yurio, what does it mean?” Katsuki demanded. 

“It means, “My boyfriend is very handsome.”” 

"Oh my god,” Katsuki whined, hiding his head in his hands. 

Yuri chuckled under his breath, but his expression had already hardened into something more serious. 

“Yeah. You need to take care of that idiot, all right?” 

The man looked over at Yuri, surprised. 

“Well?” He glowered. “Will you?” 

“... _Da._ ” 

Yuri shook his head. Still, he managed a smile. “ _Spasibo_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter in a café, and a song was playing that sounded suspiciously like “[Intoxicated](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=atkRoGLJ6ow).” I think it was actually something by The Weeknd.
> 
> Next time: Episode Tennnnn. (Part 1 of 2! There will be two conversations between Yuri and Viktor set during this ep.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuri and Viktor do not have a conversation. Takes place during episode 10 (part 1 of 2).

This was it. Yuri had gotten to Barcelona. Tomorrow was the Grand Prix Final, the last event that stood between him and victory. From here on, he would approach everything with a focus sharper than his skate blade. There would be no communication with his rivals. No encouraging Viktor Nikiforov’s lovestruck antics. He was here to _win_. 

So why was he sitting at a restaurant with the other skaters the night before the short program, listening to Viktor gush about his freaking _engagement_? 

Yuri had been innocently eating dinner with Otabek – who was technically a rival, but – 

Um… 

Okay, in retrospect, it was his fan club’s fault. The crazy girls had been waiting for Yuri at the hotel in Barcelona. The moment he arrived, they chased him halfway across the city; he was hiding in a goddamned alleyway. So when Otabek Altin showed up on his motorbike and tossed Yuri a helmet, he’d had no choice but to escape with him. Right? Right. He didn’t know Otabek very well, but this was a matter of survival. Cool motorbike, or scary fans that would cuddle him to death? 

…Cool motorbike. 

They’d gone to Park Güell, because that place was a maze, and there was no way Yuri’s fans would find him there. He wondered for a split-second if Otabek had taken him to a secluded place to “get rid of the competition,” but the guy didn’t look dumb enough to attack Yuri before the GPF and risk getting disqualified. (The Park Güell also had a nice view of the Barcelona skyline at sunset, but that was beside the point. Yuri was not there by choice.) 

It turned out that Otabek wanted to be Yuri’s friend, and no one had ever asked Yuri to be friends before. What, was he going to say no? 

_Then_ they went to dinner at a café. Barely a few minutes had passed when Viktor barged in, insisting that Yuri and Otabek join everyone else at a restaurant. 

So here he was, staring in disbelief as Phichit Chulanont led the restaurant in a round of applause for Nikiforov and Katsuki’s engagement. Viktor had the most shit-eating grin on his face– 

“Otabek, stop clapping,” Yuri hissed. 

“Why? A marriage is good news.” 

He just groaned and slumped back into his seat. 

“This is an engagement ring,” Viktor was saying. “We’ll get married once he wins a gold medal. Right, Yuuri?” 

_Fuck no_. 

He was on the verge of saying something when JJ showed up to out-annoy Viktor. Suddenly, everyone but Yuri stood up from the table and walked away. He ran to catch up with them, ignoring JJ’s shouting: 

“Come back, guys! Did you just leave me with the check?” 

~~~

“Why did we leave the restaurant?” Yuri demanded as he and Otabek crossed the busy marketplace, trailing after the others. “I know JJ’s a dick, but we haven’t even eaten yet.” 

Otabek shrugged, carefully walking his motorbike down the cobblestone street. 

“This is the second time someone’s interrupted my dinner today. I want food.” 

A few steps in front of them, Christophe Giacometti suddenly started laughing, clutching his phone to his chest. Yuri rolled his eyes. 

“There’s probably a restaurant back at the hotel,” said Otabek. 

He nodded resolutely, glaring at the back of Viktor’s head. 

“Let’s go.” 

Yuri grabbed Otabek’s hand and pulled him down a side street, bike and all. It was quiet, save for an accordionist that was playing flamenco music beneath the glow of a streetlamp. 

“Are you sure this is the way back?” 

“I checked Google Maps a few minutes ago. Those idiots are going in the wrong direction.” 

“So you’re going to let them get lost?” Otabek asked, raising a brow. 

Yuri smiled up at him. 

“Eh, they’ll figure it out.” 

~~~

Back on the street they had just left, Chris was still doubled over, grinning at his phone. 

“Huh? What are you watching?” Yuuri asked. 

“Someone made a video montage with footage of you and Viktor, set to the song “Gay or European.”” 

“I am both of those things,” Viktor said matter-of-factly. 

Yuuri snatched the phone out of Christophe’s hands, just as a clip of him and Viktor kissing appeared on the screen. 

“Is this from the Cup of China?” He asked in alarm. 

“I want to see,” murmured Viktor, resting his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Oh, the editing is quite good.” 

“Wait a minute.” Yuuri scrolled down the page and zoomed in on the name of the user who had created the video. “Uploaded by _Phichit-Chu_?” 

Phichit gave a nervous laugh before bolting down the street. 

“Come back!” Chris shouted. “I don’t think that’s the way we came from!” 

Viktor glanced around, furrowing his brow. 

“Where did Yurio and Otabek go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guyssss. Finale tomorrow! Get pumped! XD
> 
> Some updates on this story: there's going to be another chapter for episode 10, then a chapter for 11 and one for the finale. After that, y'all can expect at least one more chapter set after the finale, depending on what's revealed tomorrow.
> 
> I am not sure how long it will take me to write the second chapter of [Laurel](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8871910/chapters/20340913), because the way I've plotted the story out, it will be a good deal longer than chapter 1 (technically the "prologue"). I'll keep you guys informed!
> 
> 2 other Viktuuri stories in the works! One is about what happened after their kiss at the Cup of China, and the other is a sci-fi thing that I don't have figured out yet. XD


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuri and Viktor do have a conversation. Takes place at the end of episode 10 (part 2 of 2).

The morning of the GPF short program, Yuri realized that if he didn’t talk to Viktor now, then he would not get another chance again. He knew where to find the other skater; Viktor had gotten predictable. Back in St. Petersburg, when he wanted to clear his head, Viktor would stroll along the river Neva down to the gulf, where he would watch the seagulls careening through the sky and think about his worries. It was only a short walk from the hotel in Barcelona down to the ocean. Sure enough, Yuri found Viktor there, examining his ring in the early morning light and looking stupidly thoughtful. 

Yuri wanted to kick him. So he did – repeatedly – until Viktor turned on his heel to face him without even so much as flinching. 

“Viktor Nikiforov is dead!” shouted Yuri. “Why do you look so happy to be looking after that damn pig?” 

Nikiforov leaned down and got in his face with the kind of smirk that Yuri had always wanted him to show. 

“Did you want to compete against me?” 

Yuri scoffed. He’d answered that question many times, and it had never done him any good. Besides, that wasn’t the point; Yuri wanted to know why _Viktor_ didn’t want to compete any more. But whenever Yuri spoke honestly, it seemed like Viktor disregarded him. What would happen if he lied? 

“Don’t be so full of yourself. Not all skaters look up to you. Just go away already, geezer.” He frowned, hands in his pockets, eyes flicking up to Viktor as the other skater cupped his chin. 

_You dummy,_ he thought, _don’t you understand what I’m trying to say?_

“The ring you got from that pig is garbage,” he muttered. “I’ll win just to prove how incompetent his owner is.” 

_Maybe you two idiots matter to me. Maybe I don’t care whether you stay in Russia anymore, so long as you stay in the sport._

Viktor squeezed Yuri’s cheeks, lifting his face and looking down at him with a cold smile. 

“Let me go!” He yelled, swatting Viktor’s hand away. The other skater obliged and turned back to the seaside. 

God, Yuri hated this man. He hated Viktor for having extraordinary talent and throwing it away. For talking about a life off the ice like it was something to strive toward, when what Yuri wanted was to emulate and surpass Viktor’s skating career. He hated him for wasting his time on another skater, for making Yuri tolerate that other skater, for gushing nonstop about love. 

But most of all, he hated himself for still wanting to be a friend to Viktor Nikiforov. 

After a while, he spoke again: 

“This place reminds me of Hasetsu’s ocean.” 

Viktor slowly smiled. 

“I thought that, too.” 

Yuri sighed. Did Viktor understand what he was trying to say after all? It didn’t matter, because Yuri had already made up his mind about how the Final would go. He would be the one standing at the top of the podium, but for once, he wouldn’t have gotten there out of sheer personal ambition. 

He glanced at Viktor before walking back up to the hotel. 

_I will win so that you don’t lose._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, hope you're enjoying the holiday season! Sorry for the update break this past week; I've been reflecting a lot on the season finale. Wow, it was a whirl. Looking forward to hearing your opinions on the show! I wanted to try my hand at writing the above conversation from episode 10 from Yuri's perspective, and the finale gave me a lot to think about.
> 
> For those of you who are reading this chapter after midnight, happy birthday to Viktor Nikiforov and Merry Christmas :P
> 
> Thank you, as always, for sticking with this story <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri breaks a world record, but it isn't enough for him. Takes place during episode 11.

The music ended. Yuri raised his arms high above his head, clasping his hands together as he froze into his final position. For a moment, he’d forgotten where he was. Around him, the audience cheered, but he heard the applause as a distant roar, like wind moving through a tunnel. His focus soon expanded beyond his breathing, and he saw the ice, the bouquets, the crowd. The realization swept across him; he’d finished his short program. 

Yakov and Lilia accompanied Yuri to the kiss and cry. He was hugging an oversized cat plushie to his chest, his gaze locked on the scoreboard. 

“What score will we see here?” 

And – 

“Yuri Plisetsky’s score is 118.56! He’s surpassed the world record set by Viktor Nikiforov!” 

– His eyes shone. 

“I’ve got this!” 

“That’s my Yuratchka!” Yakov lifted him up. 

“A moment worthy of the kiss and cry,” Lilia said, sniffling. 

Yuri didn’t spend much time bragging to reporters, but he sure had a big-ass spring in his step as he went to sit in the stands with the other skaters. Otabek’s short program was starting. Yuri propped his feet up on the seat in front, between Sara Crispino’s and Yuuri Katsuki’s heads. 

“Davai!” He shouted down to Otabek. 

He was rewarded with a thumbs-up, and the program began. 

“Quadruple toe loop, triple toe loop! Success!” Yelled the announcer. 

“Otabek wasn’t very memorable in the past,” Sara murmured. “He’s completely different now. He wasn’t known at all until the junior division.” 

Yuri’s eyes widened. He and Otabek had met five years ago at Yakov’s summer camp, during Otabek’s first year in the junior division. According to him, that was when he finally found another skater like himself, someone that would never quit until he was more than good enough. And now – 

“A triple axel! Look at that height and distance!” 

– He was skating like a ballerina. 

“That’s Otabek Altin’s triple axel!” 

Yuri was so fixated on the performance that he didn’t notice that Viktor had turned around to face him, smirking. Carefully, he reached out and pushed Yuri’s chin up, reconnecting his jaw with the rest of his face. 

Yuri snapped to attention. 

“The hell, Viktor?” 

“You’re staring,” he said in a lilting tone. 

“I’m _watching_. There’s a difference.” 

Viktor smirked. “I know that.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes, but he didn’t waste any more of his attention on Viktor until Otabek’s short program was over. 

“Another score higher than the pig’s,” he finally said. 

Yuuri winced, as if on command. 

“He’s great,” Viktor marveled. “That was very exotic! It felt so fresh!” 

Ugh, damn Nikiforov and his cheerfulness. Yuri was trying to piss him off, not turn him into Miss Congeniality. Frustration motivated Yuri to work harder, and he wanted to achieve the same effect in Viktor. 

“I beat your record,” Yuri whispered into his ear. “You saw that score, right?” 

Viktor shushed him. 

“I’m trying to watch JJ.” 

He scoffed. 

“One-eighteen…Point-five-six,” he said slowly, drawing out the number. “I smashed your world re–“ 

But it was Sara Crispino who turned to face him, not Viktor. She gave Yuri an all-too-cheery smile, the kind he usually saw on Mila before she was about to deadlift him. 

“Yuri, you did great, and we’re all really proud of you. But we want to hear what the announcer has to say about JJ’s performance, okay?” 

He huffed, crossing his arms. Yuri hated it when people reminded him that he was, after all, only fifteen years old. It was great for skating, but not so much for his social skills. He wanted Viktor to see him as a real competitor, not a kid. Yuri gave a curt nod, looking away from Sara. 

“All right, great,” she said. 

Yuri resigned himself to watching JJ, whose short program was, surprisingly, a disaster. Still, he didn’t feel satisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Hope y'all are doing well and that you enjoyed the chapter.  
> You may have noticed that I've added another pairing to the tags :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for enduring this long wait with me ♡ I've been amazed by all the love this story has received, and I'm so excited to share the last few chapters with you! There will be some surprises :)

_Allegro appassionato._ “Fast and with passion.” A burst of overwhelming emotion. 

That was Yuri Plisetsky’s free skate music, which he’d had on repeat for the past half hour, earphones blocking out the surrounding noise, and which he was now hearing for the second-to-last time, before he stepped onto the ice for his final performance of the season. 

Although this was only Yuri’s first year in the senior division, _Allegro appassionato_ already felt like a summary of his life as a skater. Yuri had never done anything by halves; either he didn’t commit at all, or he dedicated himself completely. Skating fell in the second category. He’d given himself up to the pursuit of his goal: to become the top figure skater in the world. And right now, at fifteen, he had a shot at being the youngest Grand Prix Final winner in history. 

Earlier that season, Lilia had asked Yuri if he was willing to sell his soul to win. He’d been willing to give his whole body, no holds barred – and so she’d trained him as a prima ballerina, and Yuri had gone into the competition with a grace and flexibility the other skaters lacked. He’d transformed his body to win. 

But he’d also given up his mind. Yuri prided himself on his rationality, but something about this season had set off a chain reaction inside of him – explosions of anger and frustration, spiraling, barreling through him. He could have pushed that pain away, but instead, he’d channeled the rawness of it into his skating. Behind each axel and flip, there was frenzy. In every lutz and loop, madness – but also brilliance. It was easy for Yuri to credit his usual determination, but he knew that wasn’t the whole story. 

Viktor and Katsuki. 

…Those fuckers. 

After Viktor had refused to train him, Yuri had started working harder. When he won the Grand Prix Final, Viktor would realize that he’d made a mistake. Maybe it was a matter of pride, and Yuri wanted Viktor to be proud of him too – but mainly, he wanted Nikiforov to understand that no one underestimated Yuri Plisetsky. And seeing Katsuki’s improvement had only motivated him more. Yuri wouldn’t lose to that crybaby who gave up at the first opportunity, who had wasted his tears sitting in a bathroom stall at last year’s final instead of getting back on the ice and skating until they dried. That was the only way he had mastered _Agape_. 

It was with all these thoughts in mind that Yuri walked down the hall, breathing in time to his program music. 

_Allegro appassionato._

“Yakov – I want to talk to you about something.” 

It was Viktor, coming around the corner. 

“Right now?” Yakov deadpanned. “Tell me later. It’s almost Yuri’s turn!” 

Yuri couldn’t tell what Viktor was saying, but he didn’t have to turn his music off to hear his coach's outraged reply: 

“What? You’re coming _back_?” 

Yuri went still, gathering himself just enough to pull out his earphones. 

“Yeah. For now, I’ll time my return to the Russian Nationals.” 

He stepped forward and put a hand on Viktor’s arm. 

“Hey, does that mean Pork Cutlet Bowl’s retiring?” 

“That’s his decision. He said he’d decide after the Grand Prix Final was over.” 

Yuri’s jaw dropped. 

“Is he pulling some sort of self-sacrificing crap? This is pro skating, not a Dostoevsky novel.” 

A second later, Viktor was looming over Yuri, perilously close. What the hell– 

But he swept Yuri into a hug. Viktor laid his chin on the younger skater’s shoulder, holding him close, and Yuri understood. Viktor really was a stupid, vulnerable wimp. 

_So this little piggy is going to be what breaks you? He beats your record, retires in his prime, and takes the world’s greatest figure skater down with him? How disappointing. I won’t give that moron the satisfaction of a gold medal. I'm going to win, and both of you will have no choice but to come back._

Yuri gritted his teeth, pushing Viktor away. The other looked startled, like a dog whose tail had just been stepped on. But Yuri just smiled. What was it Viktor had said that one time, back in Hasetsu? "Redo the dance-off, and whoever wins gets my attention?” 

“Watch this closely.” 

In retrospect, Yuri realized that was the moment that Agape had conquered him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, y'all. *Plays _Stammi Vicino_ on repeat*
> 
> Next time: Viktor annoys Yuri at the banquet, and Pork Cutlet Bowl might just finally be in Yuri's good graces.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuri and Viktor have an important conversation at the post-GPF party... And Yuri gains the courage to talk to someone else, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, man. If you're reading this, then _thank you_ for sticking with this story until the end! I haven't updated in ages, and now I can reveal that it wasn't because I lost my love for _Yuri!!! On Ice_ ; it was because of college work and grad school applications. It was the real life; it wasn't just fantasy. XD ~~Hehe, silly _Queen_ references~~
> 
> This is the last official chapter, and it's significantly longer than the previous ones. The next chapter will be an epilogue I've had planned out for a while, and then a little Otayuri side story. If you're a new reader, then I would suggest starting at the beginning (the story isn't that long), though you can also just read this chapter as a stand-alone.
> 
> And again, thank you all so much for reading <3 <3 <3

As Yuri had predicted, the post-GPF banquet started off uneventfully, though he did enjoy the novelty of walking around with a senior division gold medal around his neck. When he entered the banquet hall, people’s attention fell on him, and it didn’t waver much as the evening went on. The other skaters actually wanted to spend time with Yuri – and to his surprise, he found their company tolerable. It was mostly small talk, which tired him out, but some of the skaters were genuinely curious about Yuri’s training. He didn’t mind all the compliments he was getting, either. 

“Congratulations, Yuri!” Mila leapt on him as he turned away from the buffet table, carrying a plateful of _tapas_. 

“Mila, get _off_!” He shouted, holding the plate far away from the both of them. “I’m going to drop this–“ 

“I am so proud of you–“ 

Yuri wriggled in her grip. Just then, JJ passed by and snatched a shrimp skewer off his plate. Yuri could only watch in horror as he began to eat it. 

“Hey, these are pretty good.” 

“Did you just take my shrimp?” 

JJ nodded, chewing. 

“The buffet table is right there!” 

“You were on the way.” He laughed as Yuri started to glower. “Sorry, I’m just messing around. Congratulations, by the way, guys!” 

“Thanks!” Mila grinned. Her silver medal swung from side to side as she untangled herself from Yuri. She’d done well, not that he had expected otherwise. Still, he didn’t appreciate the ferocity with which she elbowed him, gesturing to JJ with a tilt of her head. 

“You too,” Yuri said with reluctance. 

JJ looked down at his bronze medal and smiled a little. 

“Thank you. This has been a weird season, you know?” 

Yuri suppressed a snort. _What, because you didn’t place first on the podium with Viktor gone?_

“It’s put things into perspective,” JJ murmured. He wasn’t looking at them anymore, his gaze wandering over the crowd until it landed on his fiancée, who was chatting with the Crispinos by the dance floor. His stare flicked back to Yuri, who had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being evaluated. “That winning isn’t the only thing that matters. That we try to win for reasons we don’t even realize.” 

“Wow, JJ, you’re becoming a philosopher,” Mila marveled. “Maybe your name should have been Jean-Jacques Rousseau instead.” 

“Don’t inflate his ego.” 

“Just wait until next season, Plisetsky. JJ Style is coming back in full force!” 

Yuri said nothing, only crossed his arms. 

“I’m going to get some food and head back to Isabella, guys. See you!” 

“Bye,” Yuri managed, as Mila waved. Her hand slowly fell to her side as she turned to look at him. 

“That must have been the most civil interaction you and JJ have ever had,” she drawled. 

Yuri shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a gentleman.” 

“Speaking of gentlemen…” Mila’s eyes had already wandered around the room, landing on none other than Otabek Altin. The Kazakh skater had convinced the DJ to let him take over for a few songs; now he was sitting behind the booth, sunglasses propped atop his head, playing a remix of "Mr. Saxobeat." Yuri felt a strange, almost unheard-of impulse to start dancing. 

“He’s so cute.” 

“Back off, Mila,” Yuri snapped. 

“What?” She put her hands on her hips, frowning at him. “Do you have a monopoly on Otabek Altin?” 

Yuri grunted noncommittally. “I didn’t realize that was in the terms of agreement for helping you with your exhibition skate.” By which she meant that Otabek had appeared on the rink during Yuri’s performance of “Welcome to the Madness,” bitten Yuri’s glove off, and shot finger guns at him as Yuri collapsed dramatically onto the ice. 

“My exhibition skate was _awesome_.” 

But Mila was unfazed by his attempt at changing the subject. “You’ve known Otabek for two days,” she reminded him. “It’s not like you’re Viktor and–” 

Yuri said nothing, only shoved a hand in her face. Mila pushed it down with a scowl, putting her hands on her hips. 

“You know, one of these days, someone’s going to catch you off guard, and you won’t know what to do, because you’re so used to shutting people up when you get nervous–“ 

That was when Viktor and Katsuki strode into the ballroom. Yuri had never been so grateful to have everyone’s attention drift away from him. Mila rushed at Viktor, catching him and Katsuki in an awkward three-person hug next to the coat rack. 

_Time to get more shrimp_ , Yuri thought. 

As he filled his plate again, he felt someone tap his shoulder. It was Phichit Chulanont. 

“Congratulations, Yuri! You were great!” 

“Thanks.” 

The Thai skater nudged him playfully. “So am I going to see you at “Phichit on ICE” next year?” 

Yuri blinked, confused. “Uh… What is that?” 

“It’s my plan to bring figure skating to Southeast Asia. Just an ice show, nothing big,” Phichit clarified, though the way he said it suggested otherwise. “I mean, there’s gonna be a huge float, and tons of food, and epic costumes, but it won’t be over the top. Though I am planning a hamster-themed skate, because why not,” he added. 

Yuri shrugged. “I like hamsters.” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Phichit exclaimed, drawing out the word. He took Yuri’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. “And since I got your phone number yesterday, you can help me plan the event!” 

“I don’t have to dress up as a hamster, do I?” 

Phichit stilled. He seemed to be silently considering it, in what was one of the most nerve-wracking moments of Yuri’s entire social life. 

“No. But if you don’t, then Viktor has to.” 

“I would pay good money to see Viktor skating around in a full-body hamster suit.” 

“That’s the idea.” Phichit winked, clapping him on the back. “Where are those two, anyway? I could’ve sworn I saw them talking to Mila.” 

“We’re right here!” came a cheery voice. Viktor and Katsuki had finally approached the buffet table, their gold engagement rings featured prominently on their right hands, and the GPF silver medal dangling from Katsuki’s neck. They were wearing purplish-blue suits that complemented each other more than Yuri wanted to admit, and they looked unbearably happy. Yuri glanced away for a moment, hiding a chuckle. His plan must have worked. 

“Look at you." Viktor grinned. “Gold medal.” 

“Yurio, congratulations,” Katsuki managed to say, before Phichit accosted him and demanded to know when he should book plane tickets to fly out for the wedding. 

“Um, I don’t know. But we can’t get married in Japan anyway, so we might just have the wedding in America.” 

_Hang on a minute, America?_

“Hey, you.” He shoved Phichit aside and poked Katsuki in the chest. “Are you coming back next year?” 

Yuuri glanced over at Viktor, who looked just as surprised. He turned back to Yuri, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a warm smile. 

“Yeah.” 

“Good. I look forward to kicking your sorry ass again next year, Pork Cutlet Bowl.” There wasn’t much menace behind the insult, but Yuri figured he could unveil his softer side a little more at this banquet. He already had a bad track record with looking surly and uncompromising during this night’s events. 

Still, that didn’t stop him from turning on Viktor. “You thought you could upstage me at the exhibition skate,” Yuri said with a sharp grin. Viktor mock-gasped, clinging to his shoulder. “I’m shocked you would accuse me of such a thing. Is it not within a man’s privilege to skate with his handsome fiancé?” 

Katsuki’s face turned bright red, at the same time that Phichit squealed, and Yuri clawed at Viktor’s arm, trying to free himself from the older skater’s grip. 

“Viktor, get off him,” Katsuki managed to say, his cheeks still colored with a light blush. 

“Okay. I’ll just hold onto you instead,” he purred. Viktor released his grip on Yuri and linked arms with his fiancé. Phichit had already retrieved his phone from his suit pocket, snapping photos of them at every angle. 

“You too, Yuri!” 

“Huh?” He blinked, momentarily blinded by the flash of the camera. When Phichit seemed to have gotten his fill of photos, Yuri turned back to the… Other... Yuuri. 

“Katsuki. You really don’t remember what happened at last year’s banquet?” 

The Japanese skater scratched his cheek. “Viktor has been trying to jog my memory with photos.” 

“So you don’t remember that I won the dance-off between us?” 

“I believe that.” 

“Okay, because I want everyone to know that _Viktor_ officially broke his promise to me. You said you’d coach me if I won the Grand Prix, which I did, and that you wouldn’t coach Katsuki if he didn’t win the dance-off–“ 

Viktor, damn him, wrapped his arms around Yuri again. 

“Shh, Yurio. I’ve been coaching you all along.” 

“Don’t give me that Mr. Miyagi shit–“ 

“Oh, isn’t that the sensei from _The Karate Kid_?” Yuuri asked. “Phichit and I used to watch that movie all the time in college.” 

“Heeey, everyone!” Phichit exclaimed, swerving on his heels. “Chris brought the goods!” 

To Yuri’s horror, Christophe Giacometti had brought a fold-up stripper pole again this year, and was setting it up in the middle of the dance floor. He should have expected it; that man was creepy as hell. What he didn’t expect was JJ going out there, winking at his fiancée, and slowly peeling off his clothes while dancing to “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred. Isabella looked caught between laughter and complete mortification. 

“Woo! Yeah, JJ!” 

“This is my cue to leave,” Yuri grumbled. 

“Hey, Yuuri, you should take a turn next,” Phichit teased, eyes glinting wickedly. 

“No way–” 

But Phichit was already dragging a protesting Katsuki away, which left Yuri alone with Viktor. They were both quiet for a while, Yuri standing with one arm folded across his chest as he nibbled on a third shrimp skewer. He almost didn’t hear Viktor when the other finally spoke. 

“Are you happy, Yura?” 

Yuri’s brows lifted. He flashed his gold medal at Viktor, as though that was answer enough. 

“Mm.” Viktor nodded. “But what I mean is… Are you happy?” He said it in a different tone of voice. 

“Why are you so goddamn cryptic all the time? You’re worse than Georgi and his metaphors.” 

Viktor laughed. “You know what I mean.” _Are you happy?_

“Like… In life?” Yuri asked. 

Viktor nodded. 

“I…” He sighed. “Yeah, I think so. I got what I wanted, and everyone’s been pretty nice to me…” 

_But they all keep leaving_ , he wanted to say. Even at this banquet. Obviously, people were supposed to mingle, moving from one conversation to another, but all Yuri could think of was how they cycled to and away from him, and at the end of the night, nobody would be there at his side. _They’ve got other people_. 

Viktor must have noticed the concern in his eyes, because he suddenly asked, “Hey, are you going to visit Yuuri and me when we go back to St. Petersburg?” 

Yuri gaped. “Pork Cutlet Bowl’s coming to Russia?” 

“Yes! Isn’t it wonderful?” 

“So long as you don’t get mushy on the ice…” Yuri warned. 

“I make no promises,” Viktor said, winking. 

“Huh. So you’re still coaching him next season, or is Yakov stuck with him?” 

Viktor shook his head. “No, he’s going to work with me.” 

“Thank god. With you around, Yakov’s barely going to have any time to focus on me anymore.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about my hogging his attention. I’m an old pro.” 

Yuri grinned. “Old, maybe…” 

Viktor leapt on Yuri and captured him in a playful headlock. 

“Ugh, Viktor–“ He puffed out his cheeks, looking resigned. “You keep squishing me! What kind of friend are you?” 

“A great one,” he returned. “Speaking of, where’s your new pal, Otabek?” 

_Shit._ Yuri had walked into that, hadn’t he? “He’s, um– well, he _was_ DJ-ing, but now it looks like he left–“ Damn it, he was stammering. Viktor had let go of him, but Yuri could tell out of the corner of his eye that the other skater was still watching, and he really didn’t want to see the look on Viktor’s face right now. 

When he did speak, Viktor was surprisingly gentle. “Why don’t you go look for him?” He asked. “It might be a while before you see each other again. You should hang out before we leave.” 

Yuri shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” 

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Yuri’s gaze snapped over to Viktor. 

“Unless you want to watch Chris and JJ pole dance,” he said, with his usual heart-shaped smile. “And maybe Yuuri, if I can get him to.” 

“No to all of that.” 

Viktor grinned, leaning in slightly. “Then I think you should look for Otabek,” he said, as he started to walk off into the crowd. Yuri scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. Viktor was such a busybody. What if he didn’t want to look for Otabek? He did, of course, but that wasn’t the point. Just because Viktor _thought_ it would be a good idea didn’t mean– 

“Yuri?” 

“Oh–“ It was Otabek. Yuri had been so busy glaring at Viktor that he hadn’t noticed the other skater come up beside him. He gave a smile that was mostly genuine, only partially nervous. 

“Thank god. Hi.” 

Otabek cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Yuri wondered if he was still feeling the aftershocks of JJ’s robbing him of his bronze medal. 

“Can I talk to you?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

The Kazakh skater reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper, then handed it to Yuri. 

“Here. It’s my home address. Write to me.” 

Yuri took the paper and carefully tucked it into his suit pocket. 

“Don’t I already have your phone number?” He asked, bemused. 

“I thought it might be fun to exchange letters. We don’t have to if you don’t want to, though.” 

“I haven’t written many letters. Just to my cousins who live in Novosibirsk.” 

Yuri stared down at his feet, looking uncertain. After a second, he felt Otabek rest a hand on his shoulder. 

“It's all right. Forget about it; just call or text me whenever.” 

“No, no. I want to try. I’m just saying, my letters might not be very good.” 

“They will be, coming from you.” 

Against his own will, Yuri blushed. The moment couldn’t have been more awkward; the ballroom lights were dimmed all around them, Chris’ stripper pole was still in sight, and on stage, JJ and Isabella were performing a strange karaoke duet of "Call Me Maybe." Otabek, with his stiff smile, was the least unsettling thing in the room, and that was saying a lot. 

“I-is that all you wanted to tell me?” 

“No.” 

_Oh_ , Yuri thought stupidly, although he didn’t reply. 

“I just wanted to say, I really like you. Even though we’ve only known each other for a few days – or, well, not technically, since we met five years ago at Yakov’s summer camp, but you already said you don’t remember that–“ 

Otabek was rambling. Otabek doesn’t ramble, Yuri realized, his suspicions aroused. 

“Anyway, I admire you. You’re smart and talented. You make interesting conversation–“ 

_What._

“–And I hope we can stay friends,” he said, reaching for Yuri’s hand. “And see how things go.” 

Yuri paled, his own hand frozen at his side as he glanced up at Otabek. 

“I–“ 

At that moment, Viktor and Yuuri emerged from the crowd, their arms around each other. Upon sighting Yuri, they both waved. 

“Yurio, we’re leaving!” shouted Viktor, looking and sounding a little tipsy. Yuri hadn’t seen him have anything to drink, but then again, Viktor’s usual behavior was more… Lively than average. 

“Huh? You just got here!” 

“Congratulations again on your medal,” Yuuri said, evading the comment. 

“Ah, the night’s not over yet for me and Yuuri!” Viktor was saying. He clung to Katsuki’s arm, swaying from side to side. Yuri kept his gaze firmly off Otabek. “Have fun with your friend,” added Viktor, in the most obnoxious way possible. 

“I’ll be right back,” Yuri growled. 

“Oh. Okay.” Otabek nodded, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. 

Yuri crinkled his nose and stomped toward the couple. “Why do you do these things–“ 

“Aww, stop frowning, Yura.” 

“What?” 

“You looked so happy a moment ago.” 

He stilled; Viktor had mentioned that before. Asking if he was happy. 

Katsuki sighed. “All right, let’s go, Vitya.” 

Viktor waved again, nearly hitting his fiancé in the face. Yuuri, in a strange but fortunate display of solidarity, looked reproachfully at Viktor and ushered him down the hall. Viktor just grinned before leaning in to kiss him. 

“Bye, Otabek!” He called over his shoulder. 

Otabek returned the wave. 

“That bastard,” Yuri muttered, fighting the urge to hide his head in his hands. He turned back to Otabek, who was shuffling his feet quietly, a calm look on his face as he waited – _for me_ , Yuri realized. Perhaps Otabek hoped that when the night ended, Yuri would still be there, a part of his life. Wasn’t that what Yuri had been looking for? 

That was right. And Viktor had taught him to take a chance on what was meaningful to him. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, as he hurried back to Otabek and took his hand. “I’m here now.”


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years later, Yuri visits the Katsuki-Nikiforov family. Some things have changed, but Viktor and Yuuri have stayed the same.
> 
> Happy New Year, y'all! And Merry Christmas/ happy belated birthday to Viktor :P
> 
> Viktor & Yuuri family headcanons at the end :) And next time, the Otayuri side story that takes place between Chapter 12 and this epilogue.

Yuri rang the doorbell of the yellow suburban home, leaning on the handle of his suitcase. He managed a half-smile while waiting, but the bags under his eyes betrayed his tiredness. He didn’t fly into Detroit often, but when he did, he always prepared for a nightmare. The paparazzi on his tail, at least one layover from St. Petersburg, turbulence across the Atlantic Ocean, shitty airline food, and an obligatory text from JJ asking why Yuri never came to visit him in Canada. Seriously? There was no way Yuri was going to rent a car and drive to Québec to see _JJ_ after being in a plane for 12 fucking hours. 

How typical of Viktor and Yuuri, to move to the place furthest away from Russia as was humanly possible. Yuri supposed it was practical for them, since they couldn’t have gotten married in Russia or Japan. But America? They might as well have settled on the moon. 

Yuri pressed the doorbell a second time. He was relieved when someone finally answered, though it wasn’t whom he expected. In front of him stood a little girl, tall for her age, with brown eyes and unruly blond hair tamed into a ponytail. 

“Hi, Kirochka.” 

The girl gasped and wrapped her arms around Yuri’s waist. 

“Uncle Yurio!” 

“How are things?” Yuri pulled back to get a good look at her. “You’ve gotten taller since I last saw you.” 

She beamed and poked her head around him, glancing around. “Where’s Uncle Beka?” 

“He couldn’t make it this time; he has a competition. But he asked me to give you this.” Yuri reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a rather stern-looking teddy bear. He handed it to Kira. 

“Thank you– wait. It looks like Uncle Beka,” she murmured. Kira raised a brow before whispering, “I love it.” 

Yuri chuckled. “I’ll let him know.” 

They headed inside, and Yuri dropped off his bag by the door. Kira held onto his hand, leading him through the living room. 

“Papa and Tō-chan are outside. They’re making barbecue,” she said with a grin. “Are you gonna have lunch with us?” 

“Of course. But where's your brother?” 

“Good question. _Masaru_!” She yelled. “Uncle Yurio is here!” 

A shriek could be heard from the backyard. A small boy came tumbling through the sliding door, barreling toward Yuri and leaping on him. He looked like a miniature Katsuki, with fluffy black hair and dark eyes. 

“Yaaaaay!” 

“Kira, are you sure this kid is your brother?” Yuri asked, stifling a laugh as he flopped down onto the rug. “He’s so big.” 

“I am!” The boy insisted. “I’m Masaru!” 

All the shouting was enough to bring Kira’s and Masaru’s parents to the sliding door. They looked the same as always, except that Viktor was wearing an oversized apron with the words “Kiss the cook” printed on it in bright red letters. 

“What’s going on– oh, it’s Yura!” 

“Welcome,” Yuuri said, waving. 

“Hey - Viktor, stop telling your kids my name is fucking Yurio!” 

Kira gasped softly, then gave Yuri a stern look. “Language.” 

Masaru hesitated. He waddled over to Viktor, putting his arms around his legs and looking up at him. 

“Papa, Uncle Yurio’s name isn’t Yurio?” Masaru asked. 

Viktor laughed a little. “No, it’s Yuri.” 

“Like Tō-chan?” 

“Yes, but it's spelled with only one “u.”” 

“That's confusing,” Kira huffed. She turned to Yuri, looking almost accusing. “You can't have the same name as Tō-chan. You have to be Yurio.” 

“Who says?” He exclaimed. 

Yuuri sighed and walked over. “Kira, it’s time for lunch,” he said, picking her up and landing her on her feet before nudging her and Viktor out onto the patio. He smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Yuri.” 

“S’fine,” he said, standing up. 

“Yurio, are you having lunch?” Viktor yelled from outside. 

“Oh my _god_ –“ 

“Viktor made _katsudon_ ,” Yuuri said with a grin. 

“Viktor made it?” In all the times he’d visited, it was Yuuri who’d handled most of the cooking. 

“Well, Masaru helped him. Kira and I played in the sprinklers instead,” he whispered. 

Yuri gave him a thumbs-up. 

“How’s Beka?” 

“He’s good. Sends his regards, and whatever.” 

“Say hello to him from us, okay?" Yuuri tapped his chin, remembering something. He’d almost certainly picked up the gesture from Viktor. “By the way, I got a call from JJ. Are you staying here the whole week, or going to Canada?” 

Yuri wrinkled his nose. He patted Yuuri on the shoulder, quirking a smile. 

“Hate to break it to you, Pork Cutlet Bowl, but you’re gonna be stuck with me for a long time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanons!
> 
> Kira's around 6 years old in the epilogue, Masaru is 5, and Yurio’s 23.
> 
> Kira is adopted from Russia. Her name means "beloved" in Russian. Viktor and Yuuri chose it because they're saps, and also because the Japanese word "kira kira" means "shining/ glittering," and they thought that was cute. :') Her diminutive name is Kirochka, and they use that as a nickname sometimes. Kira is observant, pretty friendly, and a little bit of a rascal. She wants to be elegant on the ice like her dads, but she's got a long way to go.
> 
> Masaru is adopted from Japan, and his name means "victory" because Viktor and Yuuri couldn't pass that up. His diminutive name is Masya. He is a huggable ball of love and enjoys sitting in the middle of the ice rink while his dads skate around him <3
> 
> The kids call Viktor "papa" and Yuuri "tō-chan," because when they call either of them "dad," they both answer. (Kira and Masaru think it's hilarious, though, so they do it often.)
> 
>  ~~Uncle~~ Yuri ~~o~~ and Otabek are dating, and they're pretty much a part of the family.


	14. [Side Story] Beastie Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek and Yuri get together. Viktor helps, indirectly.  
> Alternatively titled ""Hey, Baby, What's Your Spirit Animal?" There are so many animal jokes I could have made in this story that I didn't get to.
> 
> This is the last chapter of this story! Guys, I'm tearing up just writing this. :') _Adventures of Yuri_ has been around since YOI first came out, and the writing process has been a labor of love. I wanted to explore the events of the series from Yurio's perspective because I think he's a really relatable character, but I was blown away by how many of you came along for the ride. Even when I didn't get the chance to update for months at a time, y'all were still reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. All I can say is: Wow, amazing!!! ^♡^
> 
> Thank you so, so much for reading, and check out the chapter notes at the bottom to vote on what fic I should write next!

What are you supposed to do when you’re in love with someone? 

For Yuri Plisetsky, world-famous figure skater and now Grand Prix gold medalist, the answer was simple. He would pull up his favorite animal videos on YouTube and show his crush as many as it took for his delight to subliminally transfer over to Yuri. Someone more experienced in dating might have thought it was a dumb plan; Yuri _knew_ it was brilliant. 

(He’d even seen Viktor doing it. Yuri would never admit this to anyone, but he’d been looking over his teammate’s shoulder when Viktor was on his phone at the rink. Even Nikiforov, who was already living with his boyfriend, still sent Yuuri Katsuki photos of their poodle on a daily basis. It had to be a romance tactic. It was working, too; they got sappier with each passing day. Why else would Yuuri and Viktor communicate almost exclusively via pictures of their dog?) 

Now Yuri and Otabek – his _crush_ – were sitting on the couch in Yuri’s living room, watching a video of a sneezing baby panda. You would think a panda’s sneeze is cute, right? _Wrong._ It’s fucking terrifying. Otabek sat quietly as he watched the panda sleeping at its mother’s feet; Yuri had told him to “wait for it.” 

As if on cue, the panda let out a shriek. Both its mom and Otabek leapt up in alarm. 

“What the – was that a sneeze?” Otabek glared at Yuri, but then he started to laugh. 

Yuri’s plan was working. 

Suddenly, his phone pinged from its place on the coffee table. He reached for it lazily. 

**[from: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
http://www.playquiz.com/100782/what-is-your-spirit-animal.html  
_Yurio! Take this quiz about your spirit animal! I got a coyote, and Yuuri got a black swan =♡=_

“Black swan?” Yuri mumbled. He shrugged his shoulders and sent a reply. 

**[The Original Yuri]**  
_Wow. A match made in heaven._

“Did you say something?” Otabek asked. 

“No, I was talking to myself.” Yuri stared at the screen. The ellipsis bubble had appeared, showing that Viktor was responding. Then his phone pinged again. 

**[from: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
_I KNOWWW_

“You’re popular today.” Otabek murmured, smiling over at him. 

“It’s just Viktor. He sent me a silly quiz, “What is your spirit animal?”” Then his eyes lit up. Everyone loved animals, right? 

“Hey, Beka. Want to take it with me?” 

Otabek gave a slow roll of his shoulders. “Sure. You can go first.” 

Yuri nodded and pressed the “start” button on the screen. 

“Okay, first question: “What is your favorite color?”” Yuri snorted. “That’s easy.” 

He pressed the yellow square. 

“Yellow? Really?” Otabek asked, quirking a smile. 

“You didn’t know that?” 

“I’d have thought it was black or something.” 

Yuri laughed. “Technically, black isn’t a color. It’s what you see when all the wavelengths of light are absorbed–” 

“Whoa there, physics geek. Why yellow?” 

He shrugged, smiling. “I think it’s relaxing to look at. It’s also the least popular favorite color.” 

“So you like it because nobody else does,” Otabek quipped. 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Well, what am I gonna pick instead? Blue? Everyone likes blue. Bo-ring.” 

“You’re a hipster.” 

“Oh, be quiet, Beka. Next question. “What is your favorite food?”” He read through the possible options, looking increasingly disappointed. “Why is there no pirozhki?” 

“I don’t think this is a Russian quiz, Yuri.” 

“It’s a _lame_ quiz. I guess I’ll pick this steak instead.” 

“But steak is nothing like pirozhki,” Otabek observed. 

“I like meat,” Yuri said firmly, an insistent look in his eyes. 

“O–kay?” Otabek said, chuckling hesitantly. 

“Question three. “Which female pop star’s music do you most identify with?”” Yuri narrowed his eyes. “I need to do some googling," he whispered to himself. 

“You’re taking this quiz very seriously.” 

“I don’t want to pick someone crappy, so I have to look up their songs!” 

Otabek pursed his lips, then scooted closer to Yuri on the couch. He peered over at the phone screen, his shoulder brushing against Yuri’s. “What are the options?” 

Slowly, Yuri read off the list of names. 

“Madonna, Adele, Taylor Swift, Shakira, Sia, and Rihanna.” 

He glanced over at Otabek, something searching in his eyes. 

“Definitely Shakira, with the “Hips Don’t Lie.”” 

Yuri gave him a long look, but Otabek only smiled encouragingly. 

“No. I know that much.” 

Otabek shrugged and rested his head on Yuri’s shoulder, shutting his eyes. They stayed like that for a while, as Yuri silently looked up different songs, eventually picked Sia, and moved on. 

“Fourth question, “What are you like in a relationship?”” He shrugged, scrolling through the answers. “Fuck if I know,” he muttered. 

That prompted Otabek to lift his head. “Well, what have your past relationships been like?” 

“They haven’t.” 

Silence from Otabek – which wasn’t unusual, except that it was an uncomfortable silence, and Yuri had to wait while his friend – crush (friend crush?) – struggled to choose his words. 

“You’ve never dated anyone?” He said at last, sort of lamely. 

“No.” 

Otabek looked shocked at that. “But you’re… You.” 

“Is that supposed to mean something?” 

He fell quiet, turning pointedly to Yuri’s phone screen. “I guess… Pick an answer that reflects how you think you’d act in a relationship.” 

Yuri nodded and selected “thoughtful.” 

“Why that one?” 

“It’s… How I’d try to be, I guess.” Yuri rubbed his arm. “I wouldn’t date someone that I wasn’t already close to; it wouldn’t make me feel comfortable, and I wouldn’t know what makes them happy. I want to do that from the beginning. Show them I care and stuff, without messing things up.” 

Otabek said nothing. But the tension had eased, and it was a companionable silence. Yuri moved on to the next question. 

““What is your dream job?” Pro athlete. Easy. Next. “What motivates you?”” Yuri clicked “success.” 

“Classic.” 

“I think this is the last one. “What are you most afraid of?”” Yuri wrinkled his nose. “Is there a “nothing” option?” 

“There’s nothing you’re afraid of? You said success motivates you. I guess you could pick “failure.”” 

“But I don’t fail, so that doesn’t scare me.” 

Otabek smiled. “Guess not.” 

Eventually, Yuri chose “being alone.” 

“I got a tiger!” He exclaimed. “Beka, look. It says I’m fierce.” 

“Wow, that’s spot on,” Otabek said, smiling over at him. 

Yuri grinned excitedly. He took a screenshot of his results before opening another tab, pulling up the quiz for Otabek. “Here, now you take it!” 

He nodded and pressed the “play” button. The “favorite color” question appeared, and Otabek picked green. 

“Is that because you like nature so much?” 

Otabek smiled a little. Maybe he hadn’t expected Yuri to remember; Otabek didn’t often talk about his hobbies besides DJing, but he’d once said that hiking in the mountains around Almaty was almost more relaxing for him than listening to music. 

“Yes, among other things. Okay, favorite food… I’m picking the fish, but because I _actually_ like it.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes, which Otabek took as a cue to move on. 

“Which famous pop star–“ 

“Shakira,” Yuri said immediately. He had a weird, almost constipated look on his face from trying to hold back a shit-eating grin. 

“You want me to pick Shakira?” 

“Yes.” 

He shrugged and clicked the accompanying picture of the _Oral Fixation_ album cover. 

“Okay.” 

“Oh my god, Beka, did you actually pick Shakira?” Yuri cackled. 

“Yeah. I don’t really care about any of these singers, so whatever.” 

“I thought you DJed! You DJ and you don’t care about, um-“ Yuri had to look over Otabek’s shoulder and re-read the list of names. “Rihanna?” 

“I don’t think Rihanna’s music describes me, though.” 

“What about the “Rude Boy” song?” 

“Gee, thanks,” Otabek deadpanned. He and Yuri had a running joke about how Otabek seemed like a bad boy because he owned a lot of black and rode a motorcycle, but he actually was, according to Yuri, “A friggin’ gentleman.” 

“What am I like in a relationship? Uh–” He felt uncomfortable reading the options out loud; Otabek wasn’t used to talking about himself. “Generous, respectful, compassionate…” 

Yuri laughed. “You’re already all of these things.” 

“You think so?” He murmured, leaning toward Yuri. 

“Don’t go getting a big head because of it.” 

Otabek eventually picked “respectful,” and “pro athlete” for the dream job question. That needed no explanation. 

“What are you most afraid of, then?” Asked Yuri. 

“Not achieving my dreams. I guess failure.” 

“Huh.” Yuri looked over at him curiously while the result loaded. 

“…I got a bear.” 

Yuri grinned. “That suits you. Give me my phone; I’m going to text Viktor so he doesn’t bother me about my result.” 

**[The Original Yuri]**  
_I got a tiger and Beka got a bear._

**[from: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
_Lions, tigers, and bears, oh my_  
_Yuuri says your results are very appropriate_  
_Are you compatible???_

**[The Original Yuri]**  
_This isn’t a matchmaking quiz_ , Yuri shot back. 

**[from: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
_At the bottom of the page, it tells you animals you’re romantically and platonically compatible with.  
For example, you’re platonically compatible with me :D_

Yuri rolled his eyes. 

**[The Original Yuri]**  
_Sounds fake_

**[from: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
_T_T Yurio, you wound me  
Just look it up!!!_

Yuri went back to his result and scrolled down the page, a squeezing sensation in his chest. 

“Look, there’s a compatibility section,” he said casually. 

“Hm? Oh.” 

“Viktor was annoying me, telling me to read this part.” 

“What does it mean that your spirit animal is platonically compatible with Viktor’s?” Otabek raised a brow. “Just that you’d be good friends?” 

“Yeah, but that one’s a lie.” 

Otabek slowly brushed his hair out of his eyes. It made Yuri want to look away, for fear of looking too closely. 

“It seems our spirit animals would make a good couple. Is that a lie, too?” 

Yuri shrugged. “I dunno. You and I are closer friends. And you’re more reasonable than Viktor.” 

“Meaning?” He smiled. 

“I could believe it. But this is just a dumb quiz; it’s not real or anything.” 

Then Otabek’s phone buzzed in his hand. 

“Hey, Viktor just texted me wanting to know if we’re compatible.” 

“–The hell? How does he have your _number_?” 

“I gave it to him in Barcelona. What should I say?” 

“Are you kidding me? Don’t answer him! Actually, wait, give me your phone.” 

“What? No!” 

But Yuri snatched it out of his hands. 

**[from: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
_So, are you and Yuri soulmates??_

“So what if we are?” Yuri spoke aloud as he typed. 

“I don’t sound like that over text.” 

“Shh.” 

Otabek frowned. 

**[from: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
_You should tell him <333_

““You should tell him,” read Yuri. “And then he put a heart… I think. Tell me what?” 

“Yuri, I want my phone back.” 

He narrowed his eyes, keeping the phone out of Otabek’s reach. “Tell me what, though? Do you and Viktor talk about me often?” 

“No, he probably messaged me because you weren’t responding. Besides, he knows I hate texting.” 

“You text me.” 

“You’re you.” 

Yuri growled. “Beka, what does that _mean_?” 

“That it’s different with you.” 

“Different, how? Our spirit animals are compatible?” 

Otabek smiled. “That’s one thing.” 

“What else is different?” 

“You write like you’re thinking very carefully about your words.” 

“Of course. I’m not going to type some random crap. You deserve a thoughtful answer.” 

Otabek chuckled, watching him carefully. “I guess so.” 

...Shit, that was how Yuri answered that relationship question in the quiz, wasn’t it? With the word “thoughtful.” His face went pink, and he clasped his hands together, gaze sloping down by his shoulder. He’d caught himself too late. 

“I-I don’t know if a tiger and a bear would get along in real life.” 

“They could. There might be a zoo news story out there about it. ” 

“Is that a news genre? “Zoo story?”” Yuri laughed. 

“Yeah. “Bear befriends tiger at local zoo,”” suggested Otabek. 

“Otabek befriends Yuri at public park,” he said, thinking back to Barcelona. That got a chuckle from the other. 

“Yeah, that kind of thing. “Bear and tiger discover they’re compatible” just doesn’t sound right, though.” 

Yuri made a quiet noise, thinking. 

“…Otabek and Yuri discover they’re compatible?” He proposed, biting his lip. 

Otabek was looking at him in surprise. His eyes were wider than Yuri had ever seen them, and – were those flecks of yellow, amid the brown? _Oh, concentrate, Yuri, for god’s sake–_

“Will you–“ 

“Yes.” 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” Yuri exclaimed. 

“But I want to say yes to it,” Otabek murmured, leaning forward to nuzzle his forehead against Yuri’s with a little laugh. “I want to say yes to you.” 

Yuri’s face flushed. Otabek nudged him with one hip. 

“Are you going to let me talk, or just stay _really_ close to me?” 

“I’m imitating Shakira.” 

They stared at each other before bursting into laughter. 

“My hips aren’t lying to you–“ 

“Shut the fuck up, Beka,” Yuri wheezed, laughing silently against his shoulder. 

“Oh baby, when you talk like that, you make a woman go mad–“ 

He shook his head, hiccupping with laughter. “I object to this–” 

Otabek was still laughing loudly, his arms around Yuri’s waist. 

“I’m sorry. Please say what you wanted to say.” He fell quiet immediately, putting on his listening face. 

Yuri smiled a bit. “How respectful.” 

Otabek’s expression softened. 

“Will you be my boyfriend?” 

Yuri stilled, feeling a hand on his cheek, then fingers gently threading through his hair. 

“Yura,” he murmured wonderingly. “ _Yes_.” 

He sighed softly, shutting his eyes for a moment. Just then, his phone pinged. 

“If this is Viktor again–“ 

**[from: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
_So? Are you a match???_

Viktor Nikiforov was going to become a swear word in Yuri’s household. 

“Can I see your phone?” Asked Otabek. 

“Sure,” Yuri said, handing it over with a dismissive sigh. 

“Smile,” Otabek said, before he turned the camera on them and gave a serene smile. Yuri looked more like a deer in the headlights than a tiger. 

**[from: The Original Yuri]**  
_We are <3_, Otabek typed, then sent the photo to Viktor. 

“What just happened?” asked Yuri, dazed. 

Viktor’s reply came immediately. Yuri looked over at the phone screen and shook his head. 

**[from: Viktor Nikiforov]**  
_WOWWW =♡=_  
_I am so proud of you_  
_Yuuri says congratulations_

“This emoji kind of looks like Viktor,” Otabek murmured. 

“I’m putting my phone on silent,” Yuri declared, snatching it away. Giving a huff, he slumped back against the couch. 

Otabek gave him a fond look, and he leaned back as well. 

“Did you ask Viktor for advice about me?” Yuri demanded. 

A lopsided grin. “Yeah. He told me to send you photos of my dog; I don’t have one.” 

“…I hate that man.” 

“Hey, it’s okay. You are beary cute,” he said in English. 

Yuri stifled a laugh. 

“If you really were a bear, you would have gone viral faster than that panda.” 

“I couldn’t come up with a tiger pun,” Otabek said, looking helpless. And Yuri was suddenly very grateful that it was just the two of them alone, with no obnoxious fellow skaters (read: Nikiforov) taking sneaky videos on their phones. Yuri shifted closer to Otabek and cautiously ruffled his hair. He didn’t expect Otabek to lean into the touch, smiling warmly. His shoulders relaxed; after a moment, Yuri kissed his cheek. 

“That’s okay, Otabear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all! :D I still love YOI and have a lot of story ideas that I want to write, so I'm giving you the chance to vote on what you want to see first. Let me know in the comments! You can pick a short fic and a long fic, or just spam the comments section with "WHY AREN'T YOU WORKING ON YOUR MYTHOLOGY AU" instead. (Please don't do that. XD I'm already planning on continuing it, which is why it's not down here.) These are just brief summaries, but they pretty much capture the gist of the stories. With further ado, here we go!!
> 
>  
> 
> Short fics:
> 
>  
> 
> – _Hogwarts AU._ Everyone is wondering who will replace Minerva McGonagall as Head of Hogwarts... All but Yuuri, who just wants his incredibly handsome new Potions partner to notice him. Yuuri's a Slytherin, and Viktor's a Durmstrang transfer student (they put him in Gryffindor).
> 
> \- _Post-kiss fic._ What happened the night that Viktor kissed Yuuri at the Cup of China? I started writing this when the show was coming out, because how dare they not show us the awkward post-free skate celebration dinner where Chris drops all the innuendos and Phichit plays wingman? (Just to make sure Yuuri and Viktor actually end up dating.)
> 
> – _Historical AU._ Viktor is a sailor. Yuuri is a courtesan-turned-ninja. I have no idea what's going on with this idea, to be honest; all I know is that it's called "Ninja House" because of the one time Yuuri says that phrase in English.
> 
>  
> 
> Long fics:
> 
>  
> 
> – _Ever-Evolving Monster_. Yuri-centric fic. An old Russian folk tale (that I totally made up, though I will do actual research) says that forest spirits visit human babies and give them something called “the wild kiss." The spirits bless the children with their magic, and they develop extraordinary physical and mental agility. But that magic wears the human body down. When those kissed by spirits turn eighteen, they begin to shed their skin and grow a new one. But not all survive.  
>  Yuri wakes up one morning to find that he's starting to shed his skin.  
> (It's not gonna be super gory, so don't worry about that! Advance warning for plot-driving metaphors though)
> 
> – _Lay Down Their Weapon_. Post-apocalyptic/ dystopia AU. This is the only one I have a real summary for! The title is from a MUNA song.  
>  In the Year 2033, the world is recovering from the effects of a deadly pandemic. It has been seventeen years since the first outbreak of airborne Marburgvirus killed over 60 percent of the world’s population. Japan was largely spared, thanks to a forced insulation plan that closed off its borders. Now, the country is beginning to issue visas again, but only for those who wish to leave. Among the survivors that choose to brave the outside world is 23-year-old Katsuki Yuuri, a promising figure skater. Hoping to earn more money for his family than local sponsorships can provide, Yuuri applies for admittance to the one place in the world where his skating could truly bring him success: the walled city-state of Pobeda. Founded in the aftermath of the outbreak, Pobeda is heralded as a refuge built on ideals of equality and opportunity. Yuuri goes to Pobeda to start a new life, but what he does not expect to find there is love. When he befriends 27-year-old Viktor Nikiforov, the city’s star figure skater, Yuuri ends up finding more and more reasons to stay. But the city of Pobeda has as many secrets as it has walls, and those secrets just might end up tearing Yuuri and his love apart.  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> That Episode 10, though.Thank you guys for reading! <3 Hit me up here in the comments section with anything you'd like to see in future fics.  
> Tumblr: [tolstoyevskywrites](http://tolstoyevskywrites.tumblr.com)  
> Spotify playlists: [Otayuri](https://open.spotify.com/user/tolstoyevsky/playlist/5i3uGBrwu9gfB9ynaOjiay) || Viktuuri: [1](https://open.spotify.com/user/tolstoyevsky/playlist/7dtTAAISDjCfEjYoOV8IiU), [2](https://open.spotify.com/user/tolstoyevsky/playlist/36xh2sv4YN7hdNWaAgDksu?si=eS1Qh7EMQCCxmXquXaP9MA)  
> 8tracks playlists (different from the Spotify ones): [here](http://8tracks.com/airini/collections/yuri-on-ice-playlists)  
> My other YOI stories: [Autotēles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15351237/chapters/35620935) || [ Someone Tell the Referee to Stop Calling Out My Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15111506/chapters/35040203) || [Stargazing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13801836/chapters/31732521) || [Laurel](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8871910/chapters/20340913) || [Otayuri Oneshots](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9341738/chapters/21166439) || [Breathe Easy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8851813)


End file.
